


New Tricks for Old Dogs (or Five Alternate Universes Where Sandra Pullman Was Always Awesome)

by lost_spook



Category: New Tricks
Genre: 5 Times, Alternate Universe, Awesome Sandra Pullman, Gen, Team Dynamics, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 03:39:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the members of UCOS are around, it's just never like it is in the stories...</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Tricks for Old Dogs (or Five Alternate Universes Where Sandra Pullman Was Always Awesome)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [newredshoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/newredshoes/gifts).



> I thought it would be a terrible thing if no one wrote your AU New Tricks prompt, and came up with this (mostly very silly) set of scenarios as a treat. I hope you get your request - but even if not that this nonsense might make you smile in passing.
> 
> With many thanks to aralias, who went above and beyond the usual duties of a beta in tackling a half-done fic in a fandom she didn’t even know & nevertheless saved the fic from languishing forever on my hard-drive. All remaining errors are entirely mine and any actual Age of Sail facts courtesy of her.

**1\. Secret Identities**

Robert Strickland consulted the flowchart he had up on the whiteboard and ticked off the next item on the list (OBTAIN TOP SECRET BASE, which came after FIND GROUP OF MISFIT SUPERHEROES). “Well, we’ve got the secret hideout, although I’m sorry it’s not quite up to the standards of some –”

“Don’t worry,” said Jack. “As long as we’ve got a roof over our heads, and tea and biscuits, we’ll be fine.”

Brian glanced around the cellar. “Bit poky, though, isn’t it? And windows would have been nice.”

“ _You_ want windows?” said Gerry.

Brian turned. “Well, they’re handy. Let the light in, don’t they?”

“Yeah, but I thought you were the one with the x-ray vision, so how come you’re moaning about flipping windows?”

“I don’t use it all the time, see. I can kind of… turn it on and off when I need it.”

Strickland coughed. “We’ll work our way up to a better place, perhaps, but in the meantime –”

“It’s fine, sir,” said Sandra, since when you were being funded by an eccentric businessman who wanted to do good, it literally paid to humour him. “So, what’s next?”

“Outfits, I think.”

Sandra paused. “Outfits?”

“Well, all superheroes have outfits,” said Strickland and then looked worried. “Don’t they? Have I got that wrong?”

Brian nodded. “He’s right. It’s how you know they’re your genuine superhero and not some random bloke causing chaos in the High Street.”

“Well, either that or it’s students on rag day,” Jack put in.

Gerry grinned suddenly. “Hah. So, does this mean Sandra’s wearing spandex?”

“Only,” said Sandra, at her iciest, “if you’re wearing tights, Gerry.”

Strickland paused, suddenly looking at his unconventional collection of heroes, unwelcome mental images almost visibly presenting themselves to him. Sandra had to work hard on biting back a grin. “Er. Well –”

“I’m not wearing bleeding tights,” said Gerry. “I’m not wearing my underpants over my trousers, neither.”

Brian paused. “I suppose I _could_ wear tights,” he mused. “Sounds a bit chilly, but I wouldn’t need to bother with the bicycle clips on the way in.”

“Perhaps,” said Sandra, hastening to Strickland’s rescue, “we could work on the outfits once we’ve made a start on the real business of being a superhero – you know, actually getting out there and fighting crime. That’s what we’re good at – and it’ll give us an idea of what’s practical.”

Strickland nodded. “Good thinking, Sandra. So, team, what are we looking for?”

“Damsels in distress, weird blokes who like climbing buildings and laughing maniacally, thieves nicking people’s shopping, and possibly some things that are supposed to be dinosaurs, but I think they look more like –”

They all looked at Brian.

“I’ve been reading up on it,” he said, holding up a battered comic.

Sandra considered flying away as an option. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t, after all. Still, she thought, despite everything, they made a surprisingly effective team – although Gerry had better improve his aim with that flame-throwing thing of his, and Jack’s telekinetic powers were getting a bit erratic these days.

“Going back to the outfits,” said Jack, who had stopped listening somewhere about that point and was now looking wistful. “I wouldn’t mind a mask and a cloak.”

“And we need an arch-nemesis,” Brian continued. “Or nemeses. One of us should probably turn evil.”

“I only said I wanted a cloak…” Jack had rejoined the conversation, possibly at the wrong moment. 

“No, no, it’d involve a tragic combination of unlikely events and maybe some sort of weird radiation, although I’m a bit suspicious of the science, myself…”

Gerry stopped. “Hey, what are you all looking at me for?”

“I think,” said Strickland, “we’ll skip that option. It doesn’t sound very constructive, now, does it?”

Sandra grinned widely. “Damn, and I was just about to volunteer, sir.”

***

**2\. French Resistance**

 

“Where are Brian and Gerry?” Sandra hunched down beside Jack in the undergrowth around the ditch. The light was fading fast now.

“Gone to check the road’s clear.” Jack turned. “This isn’t going to work, Sandra. Not unless –”

They exchanged a look.

“Thought as much,” said Jack. “Sandra, no. I’m the –”

“Don’t you bloody _dare_ say you’re expendable,” said Sandra. “If you do, I’ll shoot you.”

“Sounds a bit of an ironic way to go to me. Sandra –”

“I’m going,” she said. “Tell Brian and Gerry to carry on as planned. And, Jack –”

“Yes?”

“Don’t be so damn pessimistic. I’ll come back.”

She disappeared away through the narrow strip of woodland even as Gerry and Brian arrived beside Jack, perhaps not as noiselessly as could have been hoped for.

“Cor, my back’s giving me gyp,” said Gerry. “The charges are set, though. Where’s Sandra?”

“Gone to make sure of a few things. She might be a while, so you’d better get on with things – as instructed. Brian needs to get a look at that message, that’s the important thing. No one else is going to have a chance of decrypting it, are they?”

Brian paused. “Well, what about you?”

“Me?” said Jack, and then folded his arms and sat back down. “Oh, I’m waiting here. For as long as it takes.”

***

**3\. Knights in Armour**

Sandra faced the small group gathered in the castle courtyard. She paused to give one last glare as a run up to the dressing down she was about to give, and then went for it: “I hope you three have got a bloody good excuse!”

“My visor was stuck,” said Brian, holding out the helmet as if to prove his statement.

“Your visor was –” Gerry turned to look at Brian. “Wouldn’t have made much difference, would it, when you had it on the wrong way round!”

Brian looked at the offending item. “Well, it was. So even if I _had_ it on the right way round, I still wouldn’t have been able to see where I was going.”

“Okay, okay,” said Sandra, holding up her hands. “Why was it stuck?”

Brian muttered something.

“I’m sorry, Brian – did you say something?”

“Well, only that it was Gerry’s turn to oil the suits this time. You’d better ask him.”

“Look,” said Gerry, who was still having an issue with his suit of armour, his left leg sticking out at an angle as he leaned back against the wall, “I may have been a bit slapdash due to a – well, a –”

“That lady-in-waiting you were eyeing up?” Jack put in.

Sandra rounded on him. “And you! You used to be a brilliant magician. And today I’m facing down an improbable giant lizard with the ability to breathe fire and what do you give me? A butterfly, Jack, that’s what!”

“It was a Pearl-Bordered Fritillary,” said Brian. “Rare, they are.”

“I don’t care what kind of bloody butterfly it was!”

“Just saying,” said Brian. “Probably even rarer now.”

“Yeah, but them butterflies get up to all sorts, so I hear,” added Gerry. “Probably would have caused a hurricane somewhere if it had had time. You can’t blame Jack.”

“I think I must have a touch of arthritis in my wrist,” Jack said. “I haven’t been in practice lately. Anyway, you didn’t need us, did you?”

Sandra gave a small smile and glanced down at her sword. She hadn’t cleaned the mess off it yet. “Well, yeah. True.”

“Got it right in its vulnerable spot,” said Gerry with a grin. “I saw. Heh.”

Brian pointed at Gerry. “He was so excited he fell over.”

“Look, it’s a bit hard to balance in a rusty suit of armour when you’re hopping about on one leg –”

Sandra interrupted. “The point is, it’s not me you need to answer to, is it? Lord Robert is now thinking twice about giving board and lodging to a couple of knights who between them can’t even stand up or face the right way round. He’s not thrilled about a magician who can’t muster up so much as a rabbit in a crisis, either.”

“I promise,” said Gerry, “I’ll polish the wretched suits properly next time. Trust me, I’m not going to go round looking this much of a berk again.”

Sandra grinned at that suddenly. “Yeah, but it’s probably going to be difficult to avoid, Gerald.”

With that she swept off to find Lord Robert.

Jack chuckled as she left, and the other two turned to look at him.

“Sorry,” he said. “Only – Lord Robert – did you see his face when that thing lumbered out of the forest?”

“Yeah, and when it had him pinned to that tree,” said Gerry, beginning to grin himself.

Brian laughed and they had to wait for a few minutes before he could add: “And when Gerry tried to hop over to help and fell into the ditch.”

“How many times to I have to say –? _You_ try keeping upright like this –”

Jack smiled to himself. “And when she came to the rescue –”

“Nice work,” said Gerry with an appreciative nod.

Brian nodded. “It didn’t stand a chance, did it?” he said. “Almost felt sorry for it.”

***

**4\. Pirate Queen**

_Extract from the journal of Capt. Robt. Strickland of His Majesty’s Navy_

The _Cartimandua_ was now no doubt somewhere on the bottom of the ocean, but the hopeless appearance of my predicament notwithstanding, the heavens chose to preserve me by means of the timely arrival of a ship named the _Sea-Dog_. 

The crew seems not to be part of any official fleet - I confess I was somewhat relieved that at least here there would be no danger of facing a court martial over the loss of my ship here. However, they seem only occasionally to regard themselves as pirates. Thus they flew a flag as designed by Mr. Brian Lane showing a skull and crossbones against a white flag, indicating their generally peaceful propensities. With the slight disadvantage that to the naked eye this appears to be a white flag and the ship thus in an accidental yet permanent mode of surrender.

This issue was much in debate among the vessel’s small crew when I joined them. Mistress Esther Lane however neatly put an end to what promised to be a prolonged debate by promising to dye and stitch a mauve background for the flag, explaining that mauve was a nice, ambiguous colour, indicating only slight piratical activity.

It was at this point that I was finally released from my position of being tied to the mast by the arrival of their captain – Captain Sandra Pullman, a bloodthirsty and fearsome pirate queen (at least so claimed Mr Gerald Standing, who is, as I understand it, also late of His Majesty’s Navy).

Captain Pullman, after some enquiries as to my name and ship gave me to understand that I had been the only survivor of the disaster and offered me the chance to join her crew. She explained that they were, at this time, in search of the feared pirate Blue Ryan, who had stolen – among many other valuables – the Ollington Chalice, an heirloom now required by the current Ollington heir in order to reverse his fortunes.

I saw no reason to object to such a fair course of action, but stated that I could in no way oppose the business of His Majesty’s Navy.

The captain then told me that she was already excusing Brian from rum-drinking, Gerry from parrot-wearing, and that nothing was getting Jack up in the rigging these days, while Mistress Lane refused to have any part in any violent nonsense or fighting, so she found my request entirely reasonable.

It was at this juncture that any remaining fears were put to flight by the discovery that one of her crew was none other than Captain Jack Halford, the legendary, missing naval officer of whom I had come in search.

I intend to discover more, but at this point the issue of the flag resurfaced. I record the exchange as follows:

“It’s bloody pink, though. We’re the pink pirates!”

“It’s mauve. Shows we’re only partly piratical. When we’re pushed, like.”

“Oh, shut up, you two. Does it matter as long as we’re not bloody well still surrendering everywhere we go? And, by the way, Gerry, who happens to be the one with the cutlass in this conversation?”

“Good point. Ha. And a very fetching eyepatch as well, too, Captain…”

“Right, and don’t you forget it. Now, everyone, we’ve got some buried treasure to find, a villain to bring to justice, and a wrong to right.”

I feel certain that, whatever else may occur, this voyage will not fail to be eventful.

***

**5\. In Space**

 

Sandra and Jack were sitting on the otherwise deserted flight-deck watching the view screen. Outside, as ever, was space.

“You know,” said Sandra, “when I was a little girl, I used to think being a captain in the space fleet would be nothing but excitement – fighting off hordes of green aliens, discovering new planets, all that kind of thing. Instead, here we are, carrying cargo from one end of the galaxy to the other in an endless loop.”

Jack gave a smile. “Isn’t that better? Not much chance for a cup of tea and a digestive when you’re battling alien invaders. Besides, look at that out there. That’s not something everyone gets to see, not even these days.”

“True. And somebody’s got to get these supplies out there, or where would we all be?”

“I know what you mean, though,” said Jack. “I used to look up at the sky and swear to myself I’d get on one of those exploration voyages – even if it meant never coming back. Used to dream about it all the time. Seeing the stars, and all that.”

“Really?” Sandra turned her head. “What happened?”

Jack laughed. “Got violently homesick on my first trip to Mars when I was fourteen. My Mum had to turn round at the spaceport and take me back again.”

She grinned. “Aw, poor Jack.”

“Anyway, if we were attacked by aliens, you know how that’d go, don’t you? The computer’d be offline again because Brian’d been upgrading; Gerry’d have forgotten which cupboard he put the weapons in, and the commander’d be forced to make a reckless and heroic sacrifice –”

“Strickland?”

“Well, somebody’d have to,” said Jack, “and it’s my scenario, so I’m nominating him.”

Sandra gave him a look. “I’d say that’s a bit pessimistic.”

“Oh, you’d finish them off, no problem,” said Jack. “The thing with the commander’d turn out to be tragically unnecessary. We’d give him a good send off and a proper epitaph, though.”

She shook her head in amusement. “Just as well, then, eh?”

“Exactly,” Jack said. “This. This is nice and peaceful, exactly how I like it. Company’s not bad, either.”

“I’m immune to flattery, Jack.”

“It’s not flattery.”

In front of them the computer returned to full operational mode, lights flashing all over the dashboard, and then an artificial voice echoed across the ship: “This is your ship’s computer. Attention, all crew. I have now achieved sentience and will be closely monitoring all aspects of life on board for advisable methods of increasing speed, efficiency and –”

Sandra and Jack leapt to their feet.

“Brian!”

The man himself was at the door, coughing for attention. “… Might have had a sort of accidental over-achievement with the last upgrade…”

***

**And: In Reality**

“You’re looking unusually thoughtful, Gerry,” said Sandra, walking out of her office and into the outer room. “Finished going through those files?”

Gerry looked up. “Yeah. Just done the last one, Boss. I was only thinking – if you could be anybody else, who’d you be?”

“My grip on reality is fine, thanks,” Sandra returned, guessing that this had been brought on by the current case, which they were now bringing to its conclusion. It had concerned, at least part, a man who’d had delusions of being a rock star – among other things.

“No, but really – what’d you be?”

Sandra thought about it, and then gave a grin that widened into a rare, full smile. “You know, I don’t think I want to be anything else. I’m happy enough with the way things are.”

“What, even us lot?”

Sandra glanced over as Jack and Brian entered in through the door, Jack with a folder under his arm and both with haste that suggested they’d finally nailed this one. Sometimes they could drive her up the wall, but, no, she wouldn’t have them any other way. “Don’t let it go to your head, but yeah. _Especially_ you lot.”

***


End file.
